


Immunized

by Saber_Wing



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: But his fears are VALID, Dramatic Tony Stark, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, He's kind of a drama queen, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, It's Flu Season Everyone, M/M, Needles, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vaccines, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: Steve Rogers wants Tony: to get vaccinated!
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 33
Kudos: 193
Collections: Faye’s Favourites





	Immunized

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for the recent radio-silence. I have had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad month. I lost one of my darlings (I'm a cat mom), and I just moved, too, so I've been feeling very out of sorts, to say the least. But, I'm back in the game! And I was asked for a flu shot fic, by a very dear friend of mine <3\. Wouldn't you know it: I GIVE flu shots at my pharmacy! I am in a very unique position to offer perspective from both sides of the needle. 
> 
> That said, there are needles in here, and vaccines. If either of those squick you out, or compromise your moral compasses, there's the door. I'm too tired to argue the semantics of vaccines, and the science thereof. And no, this is not me climbing up onto my soap box and telling you to get vaccinated. I respect the freedom of choice <3
> 
> Thanks for being here, and as always: enjoy the ride.
> 
> \- Saber

Steve Rogers was _evil._

Tony glared at his boyfriend from his chair in front of the pharmacy, scuffing his shoe irritably against the floor tiles. He crossed his arms, sinking down further down into the oversized sweater he wore – one of Steve’s. He pulled the hood up over his head, sunglasses obscuring the rest of his face. Hopefully. All he needed was the fucking media catching wind of this shit.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Tony muttered, glaring sidelong at Steve once again.

Steve, at least, had the decency to look sheepish, although his expression said he wasn’t even a _little_ sorry. The fucking _asshole._ “Vaccines are important, Tony. They keep people alive. You’re the science whiz. You know that better than I do. Best thing about the twenty-first century.”

Tony huffed, pouting, with a petulant jut of his lip. “I thought _I_ was the best thing about the twenty-first century.”

Steve’s answering smile was indulgent, fond. “Aside from you, of course.”

“You can’t say it _now._ It doesn’t count now." Tony shoved Steve’s stupid face away. “Suck up.”

Steve leaned in close. “No measles, no mumps, no _polio…”_

Tony ducked away from the kiss Steve tried to press to his cheek. He didn’t get _kisses_ for being a dirty _betrayer._ “I don’t have any of those things.”

“Yes. Because you were _vaccinated._ Flu season is coming, and it’s especially important for _you_ to get the shot, because you’re…”

Tony groaned. “Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking say the _‘c’_ word, Steve Rogers—”

“…compromised.” Steve’s face was somber, serious. “You have a compromised immune system, and every little bit of help you can get is something we want to be proactive about, isn’t it?”

“I’m gonna be proactive about you sleeping on the _couch_ tonight.”

Steve sighed. “That didn’t even make sense.”

Tony harrumphed, tapped his foot against the tiles. “It makes sense because I said it does. Fuck you.”

He jerked upright when the person next to him had their name called. Watched their slow walk of shame back into that tiny, evil room, behind the pharmacist. That room, where they wanted to stick him like a pin cushion, and leave him alone to die after, like yesterday’s trash.

Tony let Steve take his hand. Not because he _wanted_ to hold it, or anything. It was just too much trouble to push him away _,_ that was all.

“I know you’re upset. But this is not a terrible thing.” He squeezed Tony’s fingers a little tighter –not enough to hurt, but only just. “That last chest infection you had…it was bad, Tony. You had to be hospitalized. We thought… _I_ thought…”

Tony softened. He’d really put him through hell. Steve. The whole damned family. “I know.”

The pain in Steve’s voice stirred something sharp and ugly in Tony’s chest. Something that had nothing to do with the infection he’d barely recovered from, weeks before.

“You were really sick. I just…”

“I know.” Tony knew how close he’d come to biting it. He didn’t remember much of the whole thing, lost as it was in a sea of mercifully medicated delirium. But, when he’d been lucid, he’d been _frightened._ Couldn’t catch his breath, no matter how hard he tried. 

“I know.” Tony hated how small his voice came, muttered at the floor. “I said I’d get the stupid pneumonia one, too. Didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulled him close. This time, he leaned into it, needing the comfort. Maybe as much as Steve needed to give it. “I’m proud of you.”

Tony let his head flop down onto Steve’s shoulder.

Tony Stark. Afraid of _needles._

The media vultures would have field day.

The door on the other side of the room opened again, and Tony snapped to attention. Watched the last person walk out, looking _deceptively_ unharmed. What did they _do_ to them back there, to make them swear to being fine in the outside world? How many threats of death did it take to keep their silence?

Tony would find out soon enough.

He was _next._

Oh, God.

His breath quickened, sweat beading on his brow.

“It’s okay,” Steve soothed, squeezing his arm. He eased Tony’s head back down onto his shoulder, hushing him. “I’ll be right there with you. Then it’ll be over, _just_ like that. Quick as can be.”

Years in the public eye kept Tony’s voice steady, although even he couldn’t stop the minute little tremors, making his hands shake _, fuck. “_ Yeah, that’s what they all say to the horse they’re taking behind the barn to _shoot.”_

The door opened.

“For Tony?”

Okay. He didn’t need to freak out. He was a grown man, it was just a shot – _two_ shots, he’d forgotten there were _two—_ and it was fine. He was _fine._

He stood up on legs he didn’t feel. Walked with his shoulders back, and his head held high. Steve offered his hand, but Tony refused it.

If he was going to die, he would die like a _man._

Steve smiled winningly at the woman in the white coat waiting for them. “Is it okay if I go in with him? Needles aren’t, well…he’s not a fan.”

Tony growled.

If the pharmacist knew who they were—she had his _name,_ there was no way she didn’t—she had a magnificent poker face. She merely shot them a charming smile of her own; warm, inviting. “Of course!”

The room even _looked_ like a prison cell. It was small. Boxy. _Grey._ There was a chair placed along the wall, a foot from the door –if worst came to worse, he could probably make a break for it –and the god damn fucking shots were sitting there on an unassuming white paper, ready to sink into his _skin._ There were caps over the needles, but he could _see_ them, and, oh, God.

“Go ahead and have a seat over there for me, Mr. Stark. I’ll need you to take your arm out of your sleeve if that’s okay. Any preference on which one you’d like me to poke?”

Yeah. _None of them._

He shrugged, noncommittal. “Surprise me.”

The woman smiled patiently. “I usually recommend the non-dominant arm.”

Tony shrugged the sweater over his shoulders, slumping moodily into the chair, with his arms crossed. “I’m ambidextrous.”

Steve’s expression steeled. “Tony…”

“Fine,” Tony sighed. He thrust out his left arm and turned his head away. “Well? Go on, then. Get it over with. What are you waiting for? Time’s a wastin’.”

The pharmacist touched his shoulder, gently. “I’m actually gonna have you relax that arm for me. Set it in your lap. There you go.” She ripped open a packet of _something_ and swabbed his arm with it. Tony managed not to shudder. Much.

He jerked his head toward the pharmacist. Side-eyed her warily. “What’d you soak that in? The tears of my predecessors?”

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s an alcohol swab.”

“I know what it _is_ , I’m not a fucking idiot.” Tony’s chest was getting tighter, anxiety boiling over before he could clamp a lid on it. “It was a _quip!_ I need to quip, Steven! You remember what happened the last you dragged me into a doctor’s office, and you wouldn’t let me _quip—”_

“Okay. All right.” Steve held up his hands, palms raised. “Point taken.”

The woman pulled a plastic cap off the first needle –a sword exiting its sheath. A headman’s axe, descending toward his _neck._ “It’s all right to be nervous. It’s more common than you’d think. It’ll be over quick. I promise.”

Tony gulped. “That’s what they said to Old Yeller, before they took him out back and _shot_ him.”

Steve heaved another sigh.

The pharmacist turned back toward him. She palpitated the muscle below his shoulder. Marking the spot where she’d go in, no doubt. For the _kill._

Tony tensed. “Ow,” he muttered, preemptively. Because it was going to _hurt._

Steve’s tone was soft, patient, although it was underlined with unmistakable amusement. “It’s not even in yet.”

Tony smirked, despite himself. “That’s what she—ow, _fuck!”_

“That was the first one,” his executioner chimed cheerfully, tossing the used needle into a red container. “Here comes the second.”

He turned his head away. Tensed, though he knew it would hurt more that way. He squeezed his eyes shut. Ignored the voices from his memories, screaming at him in _Urdu._ Jabbing him with needles. Couldn’t let him die before he’d assembled their missiles. The _great_ Tony Stark. Merchant of Death. Captive of the Ten Rings.

Steve took his hand, and Tony latched onto it. Squeezed, with everything he had. He wasn’t _there._ He was in a god damned pharmacy, getting his stupid flu shot. He had chosen to be here.

He had a _choice._

 _“_ You’re good to go!”

Tony blinked dazedly. “Huh?”

The pharmacist smiled. “All done.”

Tony stared, dumbstruck. He blinked dazedly down at his arm to see not one, but _two_ tiny, circular, smiley-face band-aids, sticking to his skin. He hadn’t even _felt_ the second one.

“Oh,” he murmured, letting Steve squeeze his hand.

The remaining few minutes were a blur. The woman had him sit. Explained that he might experience some soreness, or irritation at the –ugh— _injection_ sites. And before he knew what was happening, he somehow found himself _outside_ of the room, once again wearing Steve’s sweater, and an, “ _I got my flu shot!”_ sticker, in the shape of a Batman symbol.

“Good job, sweetheart.” Steve wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked, kissing the side of his head. “I’m proud of you.”

“You should be,” Tony grumbled, rubbing his sore arm. “I let that woman _stab_ me, Steve. And you just _watched._ How _could_ you? _”_

Steve huffed. He _wasn’_ t laughing, but Tony could _hear_ him laughing, God damn it. “What if I made it up to you?”

Tony glared at his boyfriend, for the millionth time that day, pulling the hood up over his head as they walked. “…I’m listening.”

He pulled Tony close, voice low, a conspirator’s whisper. “What if…I took you out for _ice_ cream?”

Tony stopped dead. “We haven’t had dinner.”

Steve blinked back at Tony, the picture of innocence. “No, we have not.”

Tony glared. “You hate dessert before dinner.”

“Well you, as I recall…” Steve threaded both arms around his neck. Pressed their foreheads together, kissed the tip of Tony’s nose. “… _love_ ice cream.”

“I do,” Tony affirmed, regarding him now, with open suspicion.

With one last peck on the cheek, Steve disentangled himself a bit, which was sad. Then, he wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist. Which was better.

“And, you _did_ just get not one shot, but _two.”_

Tony grimaced. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“You’ve been good. I think you’ve earned something special.”

Tony leaned into Steve. Needing the comfort, in some visceral, terrifying, humiliating way. “…can we share a slice of that cake with the rainbow sprinkles on it, too?”

Steve led him down the block by the hand. “Yes, we can.”

Tony allowed himself a smile. He dipped his chin regally, straightening back up, mock serious. “Okay. But I get a cuddle when we get home. On any surface, of my choice. And we watch whatever I want.”

Steve kissed him softly. Smiled, against his lips. “Deal.”


End file.
